Loving The Enemy
Yeah, she’d probably bite off my dick if I got anywhere near her now. I’d have to groom her, bring her along until she sees things my way, and then I’ll pounce. A bit underhanded I guess, but how else am I supposed to win over her prickly ass?
“Your personal assistant huh. I don’t know. What would that entail?” At least she wasn’t dead set against it. Proof that I was right in my assessment that she’d have more sense than to turn me down. I relaxed and crossed one leg over the other as I turned to look at her seated beside me. “Why don’t you Google that shit if you don’t understand the meaning? I’ve never had one before so I’m guessing we’ll both be learning together.”
“For now I imagine it would entail errands and shit like that. Making sure I keep after hours appointments, keeping track of my social obligations.” I shrugged and left the rest for her to think about. I wasn’t interested in whether she remembered to pick up my dry cleaning, as much as I wanted to help her out of her present situation. And also keeping her close, two birds with one stone.
EMILY
There was something about his offer but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. I know how much a personal assistant makes, mother has had one of those for as long as I can remember and the woman made a good living as far as I can tell. She drove a luxury car and was always adequately dressed for the neighborhood. I could always take a look at the books to see just how much she made. I’m sure it wouldn’t be close to what my allowance used to be, but it was better than nothing.
It’s weird that his offer should come at this time on the heels of the disastrous expose. I’d only just accepted earlier in the evening that I would have to find another source of income once my closet was depleted. I could and will sell off some of mother’s old things, but those too wouldn’t last forever. With a job and a bit more downsizing I just might be able to pull this off.
“How much will this job pay?” If his smirk had carried even a hint of ‘aha’ in it, I would’ve asked him to leave. But it was more a ‘good girl’ kind of look, or that’s what I choose to convince myself of.
“We’ll start at a hundred and fifty grand per year for now.” I almost fell out of my chair. I was sure that some assistants made that much, but they usually had more experience.
“You’ll start tomorrow.” He stood to leave and I stood up as well, not quite ready for him to go.
“I don’t recall accepting the offer.”
“I don’t recall asking. Don’t play games with me Emily, you’ll never win.” What a pompous… I’d read enough about him to know he hadn’t gotten to where he is by being soft, but did he have to be such a bastard?
That’s not fair Emily. He’s offering to help when no one else has. None of daddy’s old friends were knocking down our door to offer assistance of any kind and here was this relative stranger going above and beyond. I’m sure there’s any number of women who’d give their eyeteeth for the position he’d just offered.
I followed him to the door where he turned and looked down at me. The longer he stood there silently the more uncomfortable I became. “Don’t look so crestfallen pet. All will be well.” He lifted my face by my chin but I was too preoccupied by his nickname to pay much notice to the sudden heat in my face. The way he just stared down into my face didn’t help matters either.
“I’ll see you at the office at nine in the morning. We’ll go over the particulars then. Don’t be late.” He tapped my nose like a little brat’s before turning and walking away. By the time he pulled out of the drive I’d all but forgotten what had brought him here in the first place. That lasted until I turned off the lights and headed to bed.
Now I was faced with more questions than answers not the least of which being, who the hell had sold me out, and how had they known? The part about my dad I have no idea of. I’d told no one about the note he’d left and was sure mother hadn’t either. As to my selling my stuff though I’m sure some past acquaintances might find that as something to be ashamed of, I certainly didn’t.